


Gimme That Ol' Time Feeling

by Gracefully



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: 40s!au, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracefully/pseuds/Gracefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Jersey, 1945. Frank works at a train station as a shoe shiner, and plays music in his spare time. Gerard has to travel for a job interview and gets his shoes shined and kind of falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gimme That Ol' Time Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> written in under three hours yo. no disrespect to frank or gerard intended, i do not own them.

The fog was thick in the air, seeping in between buildings to caress the iron and brick. The people at the station wound their way quickly through the steam and fog, passing Gerard with barely a flicker of a look. Men in stark suits and women with bright lipstick passed by, the odd child or two in two behind it’s parents. There were more than a few soldiers, each carrying the weight of their experiences on their backs. Gerard could see the tension there in some of them, enough to be close to breaking. Some men walked with a swagger and a smirk, obviously proud of their actions during war time. Gerard was all-too familiar with that, but even though he wasn’t in a uniform any more, he felt much closer to the men close to a mental breakdown than the men who were infinitely proud of their work overseas.

  
Gerard checked his watch, picking up his pace. He was ahead of schedule, but it never hurt to be early. He tugged nervously at the edge of his best suit, forcing himself to take a deep breath and relax a little. There was a full two hours until his appointment, he could stand to slow down a little.

  
The train station was loud and warm because of the throngs of morning commuters. Each platform had a small huddle of people each in their own world, waiting for their train and ignoring the people beside them that did the same thing every day. It was a bit sad and a bit beautiful to Gerard. He checked his watch against the large clock on the wall, making sure the two were lined up. He took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. It was clean and in relative order, but Gerard wanted to make sure he would look good for his interview.

  
Feeling a surge of nervous energy rise up inside him, Gerard walked to one side of the station sitting down on a bench, by a shoe-shining station, where a man sat reading a newspaper while a younger man shone his shoes. Gerard couldn’t help listening to the younger man try to initiate conversation once or twice, only to have the older man glare at him and shuffle in his seat. Once the younger man was done, the customer didn’t even thank him, and threw a crinkled dollar bill on the ground before stalking away. Gerard could only stare. The man had actually thrown the money at the ground at the man working.

  
Gerard caught himself staring as the younger man, dressed neatly in a white shirt and a vest, sighed and picked up the money, tucking it into his breast pocket in resignation. Gerard quickly pulled out his wallet, checking his money. He had ten dollars on which to buy lunch and a ticket home. It was more than enough.

  
“What an asshole,” Gerard said louder than intended. The man had nice dark hair, parted neatly to the side. He looked at Gerard, who blushed and looked away.

  
The man let out a short little laugh. “I get ‘em all the time. It’s no big deal.”

  
Gerard was surprised the man responded to him. His tone was...sympathetic? The man wasn’t hostile at all, like Gerard was for some reason expecting. “Still,” Gerard shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this kinda shit.” He mentally chastised himself for foul language in public, especially with so many women and children around. He knew they could take it, but it was still impolite.

  
The man stared at Gerard for a moment. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “But it’s still a good job, and I don’t mind it so much.”

  
Acting on a whim, Gerard checked his watch and then his appearance. He had fifteen minutes until his train arrived, and he needed to look like a million bucks for his interview. The better the first impression, the better chance he had of getting the job. “How much?” Gerard asked, nodding towards the seat and the man’s bottle of shoeshiner.

  
The man seemed surprised. “You don’t need to--”

  
“No, I have an interview, it’s in my best interest.” Gerard said quickly, sliding into the seat. The man still looked a little surprised, but he brought out a fresh rag anyway and began to work on Gerard’s shoes. It was silent for a minute before the man asked,

  
“Job interview, huh?”

  
“Yeah, a weekly comic book is adding a couple of new artists to its lineup.” Gerard felt a little embarrassed saying it out loud, most ridiculed him for pursuing a career in the arts. 

The man however, glanced up, looking intrigued.

  
“You’re an artist, then.” He stated plainly.

  
“I guess,” Gerard shrugged, glancing at his portfolio, which sat on the bench.

  
“Just drawing and painting, or…” the man trailed off.

  
“I, um, I sing sometimes. For bars, occasionally." 

  
“No shit!” the man chuckled, glancing up at Gerard. “So do I. I mostly play guitar, though. I play here on my breaks for tips. Doesn’t pay too well, but I hope to do it professionally sometime.

  
Gerard was intrigued. He was lucky to have met another musician, another creative type like himself. “What’s your name?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

  
“Me? I’m Frank. Frank Iero.” he said, smiling up at Gerard. His eyes were hazel and framed by beautifully dark lashes, Gerard noticed with a jolt.

  
“I’m Gerard.” Gerard introduced himself bashfully. It occurred to him belatedly that Frank hadn’t asked, and he bit his lip nervously. Frank leaned back onto his heels and looked up, hands resting on his hips. Gerard handed over a dollar and fifty cents. Frank raised an eyebrow at Gerard, but Gerard simply smiled. Frank had done an excellent job after all, and Frank deserved a tip after dealing with the asshole before him. Things were silent between them.

  
"Did you serve?" Gerard asked hesitantly, adjusting his hat. He couldn't count how many times that question had come up in the recent months; how many times it had been asked to Gerard, and how many times he had asked it himself. It was a common theme among young men, and Gerard hated it. Every time he had to say yes, the memories came flashing back, worse than they were in real life. He only asked to know more about Frank.

  
"No," Frank said with almost a biting tone, so slight that Gerard might have missed it. "I was sick as a kid a lot, and it carried on. The doctors took one look at my medical record, almost every field filled in, and sent me to the door."

  
Gerard nodded understandingly. Frank was small, and though he had filled out nicely, Gerard could easily see him as smaller, thinner than he was then.  
"What about you?" Frank asked. For once, Gerard didn't hear the silent judging, the silent sizing up of one another. It was absent in Frank's curious tones.  
Gerard swallowed, blinking fast. "Yeah, I served." He said tersely.

  
Frank, luckily, picked up on Gerard's reluctance to talk about it, and moved onto a different subject. “Hey, do you mind if I see your art?”

  
Gerard shook his head, but felt a little embarrassed as he stood and picked up his portfolio. Gerard sat down on the bench as he undid the string that held the folder closed. Frank sat beside him, peering eagerly over Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard flipped past a couple of more professional pieces, a few still lifes and a couple of serious portraits, to his comical sketches. He held one out and Frank took it carefully, hazel eyes flicking over the page. Gerard noticed how carefully he held the piece, and a small smile wormed its way onto Gerard’s face. Frank actually appreciated art.

  
“Wow, I really like this,” Frank said, glancing quickly at Gerard. “I love how realistic it is, even though it’s technically a cartoon.” He pointed with his free hand to one of the girls, who sported a short hairstyle. “I like her, she’s a real badass.” Gerard smiled, a pleased, warm sensation working it’s way through his chest. That girl, unofficially named Chaos, was Gerard’s favorite as well.

  
Frank carefully handed it back, eyes sparkling. “With that kind of art, they’d be stupid not to take you on.” Frank said, glancing at Gerard’s open portfolio. His eyes settled on one of Gerard’s more serious sketches. “Hey, is that Belleville Park?” He asked, pointing.

  
Gerard nodded, surprised. “Yeah, it is. How’d you know?”

  
“I grew up in Belleville!” Frank exclaimed with a laugh.

  
Gerard couldn’t believe it. “No way! So did I!”

  
“Wow, what are the chances,” Frank asked, running a hand through his hair.

  
“Wait, how old are you?” Gerard asked, something occurring to him.

  
“I’m twenty three.” Frank said. Gerard couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

  
“And you went to Belleville High, right?” At Frank’s nod, Gerard asked, “Did you ever meet Michael, well, Mikey Way?”

  
Frank squinted, tapping his lower lip with his fingertip. “Glasses?” he asked. “Shaped like a beanpole, probably a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet?”

  
Gerard nodded enthusiastically, feeling a tug in his chest for his brother, who was miraculously alive, only a couple of blocks away from Gerard’s apartment. “I don’t believe this,” he chuckled. “Mikey’s my kid brother.”

  
Frank looked genuinely incredulous at that. “Wow, small world.”

  
“No kidding,” Gerard chuckled. He glanced at Frank and noticed a tattoo on the underside of his arm, peeking out from under the rolled up sleeve of Frank’s shirt. “That’s some serious ink,” he commented.

  
Frank turned, almost proudly, to display the tattoo to Gerard. It was of a woman, a saint, framed in red. “This is a lady I like to call the Lady of Sorrows.” Gerard leaned closer, peering at the tattoo.

  
“Needles give me the creeps, but man, I love the work tattoos can produce.” The tattoo was beautiful. Frank seemed pleased that Gerard appreciated the work he had done on his body.

  
“As soon as I can get some more cash, as soon as I become a rock star, I’m getting a scorpion right here,” he tapped the side of his neck, just below his ear, and Gerard could visualize it perfectly. He smiled lightly, staring at the pale patch of skin on Frank’s neck.

  
Suddenly, the train whistle screeched and Gerard’s head snapped to the side. He checked his watch. It was time to go, right then. “Oh, shit,” he cussed, snatching up his portfolio and stuffing his hat on his head. He tied the string quickly, sending an apologetic look to Frank. He had really enjoyed talking with the man, after all.

  
“My train is leaving, I have to go.” He said, taking a step away. “It was nice talking to you!” he called over his shoulder as he jogged towards his platform.

  
“I hope you get the job!” Frank called back. Gerard crashed onto the train moments before the doors slid shut, a small smile on his face. A mother and her child sent a disdainful look in Gerard’s direction, but he couldn’t help his smile.

  
Gerard felt considerably more optimistic about the interview after talking to Frank. As the train left the station and they sped to the destination, Gerard pulled out a scrap of plain paper and began to sketch Frank. Somehow, that helped calm his jittery nerves even more.

 

Gerard stepped onto the train without realizing that he had. He sat down, numb, staring straight ahead. His portfolio tucked under his arm, an incredulous laugh bubbled up in his chest. For some unknown reason, the cigar-chewing man behind the desk had approved of Gerard’s work. He had even complimented Gerard’s sketch of Frank! Gerard bit his lip in an attempt to quell his happiness. He could feel the spot where his contract nestled on the inside of his jacket, and that made Gerard very happy. Moreover, he could work from home, and only go into the office once a week to speak face-to-face with his boss and turn in his latest work.

  
The train ride home was a blur, and Gerard barely realized it passing in his giddiness. He stepped off, into the darker room. It was late at night, and his train was the only one with passengers arriving. Only a couple of people milled around, a stark contrast to the earlier rush hour.

  
As Gerard walked out, he remembered someone, and turned. The chair was empty and Frank was nowhere to be seen, until Gerard heard a delicate melody plucked out on guitar. He turned and Frank was sitting there, guitar case open in front of him and a peaceful look on his face. He played quite well, humming along to the song. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t see Gerard, who leaned up against the wall, in shadow. A couple of people passed and dropped coins in Frank’s guitar case. Gerard watched him, a hopeful, fluttery feeling in his chest.

  
The song was over all too quickly. Frank paused for a moment after it was over before he opened his eyes, collecting the money in the case and lining his wallet with it. Gerard pulled the sketch of Frank out of his pocket, all of the sudden nervous again. He walked up in front of Frank and held the drawing out. Frank looked at it before he looked up at Gerard, a huge smile on his face. “Is this for me?” he asked, standing up and picking up his guitar case.

  
Gerard nodded, feeling his nervous energy build. Frank took the sketch and looked at it closely in the dim light, a smile working its way onto his face. “Did you get the job?” he asked, looking back up. He tucked the sketch into the inner pocket of his vest, close to his heart.

  
“Yeah, I did.” Gerard said, barely able to contain his excitement.

  
“Of course you did! You’re an amazing artist!” Frank said, lightly punching Gerard on the shoulder, playfully. Gerard made a decision in his mind, right then. He glanced around, the station was completely empty in their section.

  
“Please tell me I’m not wrong about this but--” Gerard said quickly before surging forward and capturing Frank’s mouth in a chaste, light kiss. He pulled back almost instantly, scared and nervous. He knew that Frank would probably be disgusted, spit on Gerard or attack him. Instead, a small smile came across Frank’s face. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to the side of Gerard’s face.

  
“I was hoping you were…” he said softly before kissing Gerard, slower this time. Gerard opened his mouth, letting the kiss in. After a long moment, he gently pulled away.

  
“Not here,” he murmured. “But we should definitely get food some time.”

  
“Of course,” Frank murmured back. “I know where we can get the best Italian in the city.”


End file.
